


keep me.

by transperalta



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Jealous Aaron Hotchner, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Reader-Insert, Sexy Times, Smut, There's a plot I swear, Vaginal Fingering, aaron hotchner is kinky, but its not all about sex?, eventual jemily too, idk how to tag this, maybe also moreid for the gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transperalta/pseuds/transperalta
Summary: love is hard.one supervisory special agent has the ability to make it easier.if only you'd let him.if only he'd let himself.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i also posted this under the user moreidetic on wattpad if you'd rather read there. 
> 
> cws for this chapter: slight verbal abuse, implied domestic abuse

"Hotch, please, I-"

"Not a sound, pup. Shut those pretty lips of yours."

The smooth fabric of his tie rubbed against your wrists, the friction burning a little. Only in the best way, of course. Although the mark it would inevitably leave would become a similar shade of red to the iconic accessory, something you regularly found yourself fantasising about. Especially when you shouldn't be...

"-good? Y/N?"

A gentle hand placed onto your shoulder brings you back to reality, your eyes tearing themselves away from your boss' tie and focusing instead on your coworker's concerned face. 

"Y/N? Did you even hear anything I just said?"

You wiggled your fingers slightly under the table, tapping against the outside of your thigh as a small wake-up, a reminder of what's real and what's not. 

Turning back to face the rest of your team, you shot him a quick answer, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You did not want to have to explain why you kept spacing out during every meeting. Or any time you were even around your boss, for that matter. It hadn't started out like this, but recently you couldn't help yourself. You had sneaking suspicions as to why this was, but they weren't ideal. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I, uhm... I didn't get much sleep last night. Sorry."

You can practically hear Derek's smirk as you finish your pathetic excuse, giving you a sharp elbow in the side along with a lighthearted comment on your love life. Misguided, but still. You heard the rest of the team laugh too, presumably at the childish nature of Morgan's jokes. Although, they could also have noticed the bright shade of red your cheeks had turned, despite your efforts to hide them. 

You felt your thoughts drifting off again, wondering what that same shade of red would look like when inflicted by your boss...

No. Not right now, in this meeting, where people are already suspicious. Nope.

Instead, you simply opened the file in front of you, attempting to draw the attention away from your slight humiliation and onto the case at hand. After all, you did have a job to do. 

You thought Hotch would pick up on this, following suit, but there was a pause. Looking up at him, you caught a glimpse of his tall figure. His eyes were staring straight back into yours, seemingly studying your expression for something he couldn't quite place. At the risk of becoming even more flustered, you smiled at him, hoping to receive one back and release any previous tension. Rather, his gaze was swiftly diverted, as if he were caught doing something he should not have been. But it wasn't guilt, no, more... embarrassment. If you had been profiling an unsub, you may have even said he was just as flustered as you. This was, however, your boss, and he didn't get flustered. So maybe, in the few seconds you analysed him, you had only seen what you wanted to. What you wished you saw. 

Usually, you would have expected to hear Hotch take charge of the meeting once again, and yet his low voice didn't reach your ears. Instead, it was up to Rossi to interrupt, taking it upon himself to get the team back on track. Your boss just stared at the papers in front of him, his brow furrowed as if he intended to burn a hole into the pages. 

"Three girls so far, all taken while out on a night run. Our latest victim is Jasmine Adams, reported missing seven hours ago."

"We don't have much time, then." Reid chimed in. "In fact, almost a-"

Before Spencer could continue his rambling, Hotch cut in, the most he'd spoken all meeting. Sure, he was a man of very few words, especially in the mornings, but he would at least cut in with some insight. Who knows what's going on in that man's head?

"Wheels up in thirty."

You shot Spencer an apologetic smile, a look that said 'Tell me later. I want to listen to you.'.

In truth, you knew how it felt. To think you have something interesting to say, only to be shut down by everyone around you. So you always made an effort to listen to Spence, every last detail ingrained into your memory. Even if you didn't exactly know what it all meant, you didn't want to miss the precious look on his face when you brought up something he'd said in passing a couple weeks ago, like a tiny puppy. 

You linked arms with him as the team left to gather their things, leaning your head on the side of his arm as you began to recommend him some obscure song you'd listened to over the weekend. It was a deal you'd made a few weeks into meeting each other; he would recommend his favourite books, and in turn, you'd recommend some music. It wasn't guaranteed that either of you would enjoy what the other suggested, and yet you both took comfort in the knowledge that someone else cared.

The feeling of your phone vibrating in your pocket tore you away from your best friend, reaching your hand into your pocket. You gestured for him to enter the jet without you, you'd catch up in a minute. Stepping away from the entrance, cautious that you were out of earshot, you swiped your thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to your ear.

The growl on the other end was exactly what you had expected to hear, although that didn't mean it was what you wanted.

"What the fuck, Y/N? I thought I told you, no more cases out of state. I don't want you away from me."

Ah, the usual threats of your boyfriend. Despite being together for the best part of two years, you only felt yourself falling further from him. One of these days you would muster up the courage to leave him for good. 

Not today, though. 

"I'm sorry, James. You know it's my job, I can't just do whatever you want. You know that."

His sigh carried through the speaker, sending a chill down your spine.

"Listen to me. I don't care what they want from you, you're mine. You're just a worthless slut anyway, maybe this time you'll come home to an empty bed."

Every time. Every single time you went on a case, he would call you. And he would say that. And he would never follow through. Yet still, despite all he had done to you, you couldn't stomach the thought of being alone. Somehow it didn't matter how he made you feel, how much you hated yourself when you went back to him. He was better than nothing. And deep down, you knew that he was the only person who would settle for you. 

"Okay. I don't want to do this with you right now, can you please just text me later? Tell me you're at home? You're not leaving me?"

God, even just hearing the words leave your mouth felt pathetic. You shouldn't have to beg for him to stay with you. 

He chuckled through the phone. 

You tried, once again, to plead with him.

"Please stay."

Your voice came out as barely a whisper, a small crack exposing your emotions. 

He hung up.

He hung up, and you hated yourself. 

You didn't have time to wallow in your emotions, though, as you felt a gentle hand rest itself against the small of your back. Grounding you.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

You had almost jumped out of your skin as Hotch's question sounded from much closer than you had expected, twisting yourself to face him. Yeah, you were much closer than could possibly be comfortable for him. 

Your words came out surprisingly smoothly, almost successfully concealing how broken you felt. He could, of course, see right through you. Although he wouldn't push.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine, Hotch. Thanks for the concern, though!" 

Without giving him the opportunity to respond, you turned once again and entered the jet, hauling your go-bag onto the rack before almost collapsing into your usual seat. Closest to the window, with the table and opposing seats in front of you. Spence was grabbing coffee for the both of you, and the rest of the team had yet to arrive. You felt Hotch's eyes on the back of your head, but thought it best not to confront him. He was just worried about his team, that's it.

Soon enough, Spencer returned with two coffees in hand, one containing ungodly amounts of sugar, and the other just slightly less. It was one of the things the team had teased you for when you joined, but you justified your tastes with the fact that hey, at least Spencer took his sweeter. 

The rest of the team filtered in, Morgan setting himself down next to Spencer and immediately pulling out his headphones, scanning the case to go over the details one last time. 

You heard a deep sigh, and looked to your right as you felt the seat next to you dip. It was, of course, Emily. 

"Y/N, I miss JJ."

She practically whined as she positioned herself, giving you the most 'I'm sad, please give me attention' look you had ever seen. 

"Em, come on. It's literally been less than twenty-four hours. I'm sure you can manage."

Your eyes drifted back to the open book in front of you, a gift from Spencer. It was an old copy of one of his, annotations littering every free space. They were fascinating, and you had stayed up way too long last night reading them. The older agent sighed beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. 

"I'm sure I can't but I'll try. Just for you."

She looked up at you, giving you a little boop on the nose and smiling. You both giggled as you copied her action, and she settled her head on your shoulder again after you were satisfied that she had cheered up at least a little.

When you looked up, across the jet, you found yourself making eye contact with him again.

He smiled at you.

You smiled back.

The plane took off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we start!!
> 
> first off, thank you so much to the people who are reading this, that's super cool and i'm grateful for you all!! second, there are some sensitive topics in this chapter, some of which will be continued throughout the next chapter at least. if these will trigger you, please stop reading, or skip these chapter (if you're reading after i've updated further). your health comes first!
> 
> tw - one minor mention of domestic abuse, homophobia and hate crime as the case topic

Rough fingers danced up the inside of your thigh, skittering up and down, avoiding the one place you truly wanted them. His touch was tantalisingly slow, and tickled slightly with his gentle teasing. You couldn't help but attempt to pull away, unable to stop your body's natural reaction.

"Quit squirming, brat, or I'll walk away. Neither of us would want that, would we darling?"

Almost too quickly, you shook your head, desperate for some sort of touch. He returned his fingertips to your skin and resumed his exasperating movements.

Leaning in, you felt his gravelly voice reverberate through your body.

"Good girl, doing what she's told."

"Wake up."

What? You were in the middle of something, why would he be-

Your head shot up from the soft leather of the jet seat, the support of Emily's body long gone from beside you.

It was a second before you registered what was happening, but once you did, it hit you like a truck.

Had you really just had an erotic dream? About your boss?

In front of your boss?

Your eyes darted around frantically before landing on a dark pair, directly to your right.

His hand was on your knee. His hand was on your knee, and you regretted wearing a skirt that morning. Although, a part of you pushed past the initial humiliation, and revelled in the rough feeling of his skin against yours. You knew he simply intended his touch to be grounding, but you couldn't help imagining him going further. You were thrown back to your previous dream, swiftly pulling yourself out it as he spoke again.

"We landed a few minutes ago, but you looked so peaceful, I thought you could use the sleep."

This man might be terrifying on the job, but god was he the sweetest. You couldn't help but smile again, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake up fully before you had to actually be an FBI agent.

"Plus, you seemed like you were having a good dream."

Without allowing you time to react, he smirked - a rare image from the ever-serious Aaron Hotchner, so you felt the need to memorise the expression - and went to stand up. His hand brushed along the top of your thigh until it reached the hem of your skirt mid-way.

This man would be the death of you.

As he turned to walk out of the jet, he called after you.

"Already got your bags, let's go!"

You could practically hear the smug look on his face as he sauntered off, and as much as you wanted to smack him at that moment, it was also probably the hottest thing you'd witnessed all week.

And now you had to work this case with him.

How you were supposed to keep yourself in check when this man was so damn perfect all the time?

Before you knew it, you were at the local precinct, setting up for the investigation ahead of you.

You had been saved an awkward trip there, Derek calling you over to his SUV before Hotch could convince you otherwise, and you hitched a ride with him, Emily, and Spencer. The fun ones. Relief had flooded your veins when he'd beckoned you over, because you just knew that a ride with Hotch and Rossi would have felt excruciatingly long.

So instead, you had spent the journey with your head resting on Spencer's shoulder, a gentle but stabilising grip on his elbow because Derek was driving and you would not trust that man on the roads even if your life depended on it.

It wasn't long after you arrived that you had left again, Hotch sending you and Spencer to the latest victim's house. To your surprise, her parents had bumped into you as they were leaving, and refused to stay and talk. Almost as if they were hiding something, but you couldn't be sure. They seemed in a rush.

Left in the house by yourselves, you and Reid began your job: snooping.

Well, technically it was profiling, but still. Your eyes scanned the entire room briefly as you stepped in, gaining a general overview of the space. An unmade bed, tapestries strung up on the walls next to a smaller rainbow flag, a messy working space which clearly hadn't been used for actual work in months. For an adult, this may have been quite telling about their personality, but this girl was in her late teens, and her room could belong to literally any other kid her age.

"What was up with her parents?" Reid spoke out into the room, possibly directed at you but most probably just to himself. You answered regardless.

"I honestly don't know. I mean, you'd think they'd care more that their daughter is missing, right? I guess some people just weren't meant to be parents."

Yeah, you could say that again.

Both satisfied that you couldn't find anything of use here, you concluded your visit, setting off back to the precinct. You didn't see the parents again.

After a long day of making absolutely no progress, you sat around the desk once again. The local PD had long since gone home, refusing to work overtime despite the missing girl in their jurisdiction. As usual.

You were so tired.

With the time constraints on the case, combined with the complete lack of evidence, and the incompetence of the locals, this case seemed to only get more complicated.

Hotch cleared his throat.

"Listen, I recognise that this is difficult, but we have a young girl to save. Let's work this case until it's done, please."

You knew he didn't mean anything by it, merely attempting to connect with the team and show his understanding, but your sleep-deprived state disregarded all logic and reasoning, instead making you unreasonably irritated. Did he not trust his team to do their jobs? Of course you'd work the case until completion, you wouldn't have it any other way, because you were professionals and-

Your frustrations were conveyed with a short sigh, and an eye roll. Obviously, neither went under the radar of the team of FBI profilers, but to be honest, at this stage you were too tired to care. You simply scanned over the files in front of you once more, hoping for something to jump out at you despite nothing happening the last fifty times you did so.

You heard Hotch draw in a breath, perhaps gearing himself up to speak again, but before he could do so, a miracle happened.

You made a breakthrough.

Practically jumping up from your seat - something you honestly thought you were too exhausted to do - the team around you startled, as you stabilised yourself and began explaining.

"Guys, I think I've got something, but I'm not sure. Let me call Garcia first."

God you hoped this lead would pan out, because you would hate to embarrass yourself like that otherwise.

Going off to a room a little more private, with better cell service, you dialled Garcia's number, resting your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you opened your file and flipped to the page you needed. Photos of the missing girl's room.

"Hey sweetheart! What can I do you for?"

Her voice was a small comfort after a long day, that's for sure.

"Ahh, my favourite technical analyst. Listen, I have a theory, but it's definitely a long shot. Do you think you could pull off some magic for me?"

"Some magic? You doubt my abilities, love. What do you need?"

You chuckled at her playful manner, always able to make you smile when you needed it. This woman truly was a godsend.

"Could you check what music streaming services the vics used? They were all listening when they were taken, and I'm thinking that could have something to do with it. Maybe not though."

The satisfying clicking of her nails against her keyboard rang through the speaker as she hummed.

"Yup! They all used Spotify, why?"

"That's great, Pen. Could you get into their accounts? If we could cross-check their listening history for the week before they were taken, maybe we could find something there."

Once again you heard her get right to work, still humming a soft tune through the phone as she searched.

"Y/N, you have some great ideas. They all had one artist in common, someone called Girl In Red? Please don't tell me that means what I think it does."

You thought it did.

"Yeah, Pen. I'm curious as to how you know what Girl In Red means, but I'll stick to being grateful for now."

You stopped to think for a second. You hadn't thought this far ahead, and now that your actions had caught up to your thoughts, you needed to expand your theory.

"Did they have any followers in common? Someone who could see what they were listening to?"

Like usual, you heard her typing, until she quickly came back to you.

"Of course, honey. I've got two people here, both around the same age. One dude, David Fuller-"

She paused as she dug deeper.

"-arrested a year ago for domestic abuse, but never charged."

You drew in a breath, and started fiddling with the edge of the paper in your hands. To occupy yourself, you picked up a pen and notepad in place of the file, noting down the incoming information.

"He lives at 23 Walter Street with his parents. The other is a girl, Christina Beau, and she lives at 4 Saltwater Lane. No criminal record, seems like a good kid. That's all I have, sweetie."

You finished scribbling down the details, and took the phone into your hand.

"That's perfect, Pen, you're our very-own miracle worker. Love you!"

Her reply sounded through the phone just before you hung up, ready to report back to your team. As you went to return to them, however, you felt a figure standing in your way. You almost ran right into him, in your eagerness to share your lead.

Instead, you managed to stop yourself, placing your hand flat on his chest to prevent a further collision.

It was firm, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him and onto your open palm. His shirt was bunched up around the pressure you were applying, the dark material crumpling at your touch. A steady heartbeat thumped against your skin, and if you didn't know better, you'd have sworn it sped up.

"...Y/N?"

Shit. That was your boss' voice, and you were abruptly made aware of how long you had actually been stood there, just revelling in his touch. You tore your hand away, as if you had burnt yourself.

"Yes. Sorry sir. I have a lead?"

Somehow, you found it in yourself to peer up, locking eyes with him. For a moment, you forgot where you were. You watched as his eyes searched yours, his gaze gentle but curious, and then darted away to the side.

"Let's tell the team."

Your eyes met again as he opened the door for you, beckoning you ahead of him.

"That's good work, Y/N."

In a futile attempt to hide the blush growing on your cheeks, you rushed past him, managing to squeak out a "thank you" as you made your way back to the others. You were sure they noticed your face newly-tinted pink - Spencer's startled expression and Derek's accompanying chuckle giving them away - but you knew you had to ignore that. Back to the missing girl. 

"Alright Heihei, what you got for us?"

You shot Morgan a cautionary glare at his newest nickname; you had watched Moana the weekend before, and he had turned to you amused when this tiny, idiotic, clumsy, and overall dim-witted rooster has appeared on screen. Apparently it reminded him of someone.

Really, you found it endearing, but you would never admit that to his face.

"Special Agent Derek Morgan, I have a lead. Two suspects, in fact. Hold your applause."

You heard a chair squeak to your left as Hotch sat down to listen. 

"I was looking over the scene photos again, for like the seventeenth time, and I noticed this flag on her wall. Which is great, until you realise that all of our vics had this same flag, or at least a variation."

Confused faces stared back up at you. Clearly they hadn't made the connection yet. Although Emily seemed a little more apprehensive than the others; ever the investigator. 

"We also know that our vics were all listening to music when they were taken, so I followed up on that too. They all listened to the same artist in the week before they were taken. Girl In Red."

Again, confusion. Emily seemed to finally make the connection, though. Leave it up to her to figure it out before the others. As for them, they just looked at you expectingly, obviously desiring an explanation.

"Girl In Red is an artist well-known within the LGBT+ community. It's like an inside joke; if you ask someone 'Do you listen to Girl In Red?', it's practically you asking if they're a woman who's attracted to women. Internet culture, basically."

Expressions of realisation adorned the faces of the team in front of you, along with those of disappointment and disgust.

"You're saying we're dealing with a series of hate crimes here?" Rossi chimed in.

"Unfortunately. I got Garcia to cross-reference the followings of the girls, and these two came up."

You slid your notes across the table for them to read. 

Fuck a knife, you'd need a chainsaw to cut the tension in that room.

This was going to be a long case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this chapter!! yes, this was partly inspired by a pov i saw by allison (user ssa.allisonderose on tiktok), i thought it was funny ahdjksd. anyway i hope you enjoyed this chapter, i promise it's gonna get spicier soon. also maybe (definitely) angstier too. stick around! -jesse


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!
> 
> again, thank you for reading this book, it means the world to me <33
> 
> this chapter will include the following potential triggers, so please don't read if they will affect you!! your health always comes first!!
> 
> tw: mentions of hate crime and homophobia, catcalling

He had you bent over his desk, elbows holding you up next to the countless files he had long-since given up on reading for the night. 

The cold wood of the table pressed into your skin suddenly as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, holding them behind your back as his hard dick pressed against the fabric of your skirt. 

A chill ran up your spine when you felt him lean forward, trailing kisses along your shoulder until he reached your ear.

"Tell me what you want, pup."

You pushed yourself back up against him, eliciting a low groan and the grip on your wrists to tighten.

"Ah ah, princess. Use your words."

"P-please Aaron, I-"

The grip, tightening. 

"That's sir to you. Got that?"

Another chill. Another push back against him.

"Yes sir."

You could feel his cock twitch through your skirt, letting your wrists go a little as he groaned again, deeper this time.

"Good girl. You're such a good girl for me. Now use your words right this time."

Grinding your hips slowly back onto him, you attempted once again.

"Please, sir. I need you."

He pressed himself between your legs now, so close to giving in to your mutual desires, and then...

A soft moan sounded from beside you, and you were acutely aware of the solid, carpeted surface you had fallen asleep on - a stark contrast to the welcoming bed you usually returned to at the end of the night. 

Before you could follow your regular routine, of stretching out over the mattress, you opened your eyes tentatively in an attempt to survey your surroundings. Your initial instinct was to sit up, but the desk above you blocked that, and so you resorted to simply turning over.

To be met with the sleeping face of your boss.

Oh. Ohhhhh, noooooo. 

This was not happening.

If this had happened a couple of months ago, you wouldn't have made such a big deal of it. Of course you were close to your teammates, and he was not an exception. But since you started thinking about him more and more, since you couldn't get him out of your head, you had found yourself avoiding any sort of affection with him.

I mean, he wasn't exactly the most affectionate person to begin with, but at least you used to hug on the occasional night out, or rest your head on his shoulder after a particularly long case. Something he let only you do. 

You were drawn out of your thoughts by another small moan, and a gentle thrust against your thigh. You could have sworn you heard your name leave his mouth too, but that, of course, was a ridiculous idea. You were hearing what you wanted to.

Swiftly, you scanned your eyes around the room, paying attention to the details this time. The walls of the precinct surrounded you, and you found yourself sitting up slowly as to not wake the man beside you. Thankfully, the rest of your team were still asleep, and it was early enough that the local pd had yet to arrive.

He moaned out once again, this time squirming around and running his hand along your arm before resting it on your stomach. 

You had to wake him up soon, because this was not going to end well.

Placing a cautious hand on his shoulder, you attempted to bring him out of his dream, and yet all he did was melt further into your touch and let out a small whimper. When you tried to shake him a little more, his hips bucked up against your thigh again and his hand roamed further up, dangerously close to exposing you. He was noticeably hard, even through his boxers and yesterday's dress pants. 

While you were building up the courage to wake him up - something you always hated doing - he nestled his head into the crook of your neck and murmured something.

"Y/N..."

And with that, you wriggled out of his arms, reaching over into your go-bag and pulling out the first sweater your fingers found. Coincidentally, it was a brown quarter-zip, one that you had bought because it reminded you of him. This was not the time, but it would have to do, because you watched as he jerked up suddenly, eyes open immediately.

A thud sounded out in the otherwise-silent room, and you watched as his hand shot up to his forehead to massage the spot which had just collided with the underside of the desk. He must have noticed you staring, because he locked eyes with you and smiled gently. That is, until the realisation must have hit him, and his smile dropped as a slight panic set in. You could see it in his eyes, see the cogs in his brain whirring to find the words to say.

You wouldn't give him the chance, though. The more you talked about it, the more awkward it would get, and in the middle of an important case, that would not be at all helpful. Instead, you shot a small smile back to indicate that you weren't mad, and tugged the sweater over your body, grabbing a change of clothes and setting off towards the bathroom. 

Even if you could practically feel his eyes watching you leave.

Despite the events of the morning so far, you decided to wear something a little more revealing. It was hot out, and if anyone had a problem with what you wore, they could take it up with you directly.

So, after pulling on a black tennis skirt along with a white blouse - layered with a plaid sweater which Spencer had left at your place - you stepped back into the precinct, met with the faces of your colleagues who had clearly since woken up. 

Hotch was no longer laying on the floor. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

"C'mon missy, we got work to do. Bossman just went out for some air, I guess." 

Morgan ushered you over to the table, giving you a knowing glance before sitting down across from you and occupying himself with yesterday's files.

"Okay", You started, "We should start where we left off. We have two suspects,-"

Spencer cut you off before you could finish your sentence, although it didn't bother you.

"-and the dude is more likely. I mean, according to statistics, although it's entirely possible that Jasmine is our unsub as well. But I believe we have a better chance with David."

Your peers nodded, as did you, despite a small feeling that something was, well, off. 

You didn't have the chance to think more of this, however, as the doors of the precinct opened and your boss walked in. He had clearly been to the bathroom before taking a breather, as he had changed into a different suit than yesterday, but his hair was still unruly, as if it had slipped his mind to fix it up. 

"Morgan and Reid, you go to Fuller's house. Emily and Y/N, you're with me, we'll visit Beau."

Derek smirked at you again, almost taunting you as his eyes switched suggestively between you and Hotch, and you flipped him of discreetly as you walked out of the precinct to the usual black SUV. 

Normally, Emily would be the one to break the silence, taking on that role in the last few months. You used to be able to get Hotch talking in no time, triggering long, thoughtful conversations whenever you had free time with him, and yet this trait seemed to have been lost recently. 

Apparently, she had lost it too, because the entire car journey had been close to silent, only the occasional sigh or bump in the road disrupting this. 

And so, before you knew it, you were at Jasmine's house, striding up the driveway with your teammates. 

The door to the house - one considerably larger than the others in the neighbourhood - was open before any of you could knock, revealing a polite couple standing there, smiling. 

"Hey there! What can we help you with?"

Okay. So, maybe a little overbearing, sure, but nothing to worry about. Although that gut feeling refused to leave. 

"I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, these are agents Y/L/N and Prentiss. We're from the FBI, we'd like to speak to your daughter."

Aside from a small flash of surprise, the couple's eyes remained steady and kind, almost welcoming you inside. 

"Yes, of course you are. Right this way - she's in her room again, we can take you to her."

The way they spoke felt scripted to you, like they had rehearsed it over and over to perfect their tone and their lines and everything. That gut feeling only got stronger. It rose. 

The girl was sat on the edge of her bed, a Bible sat out in front of her next to a small notepad and some gel pens, arranged in colour order. 

You expected the parents to stick around, stay with their child as she was questioned by the literal FBI, and yet when you turned around to talk to them, they had already left. Moving your focus back to the girl's room, you took a step further in, while Hotch and Emily began to talk with her. 

"I'm Agent Hotchner, and this is Agent Prentiss. You can call us Aaron and Emily if you'd like. Do you have any idea why we're hear?"

As they continued their conversation, the noise slowly started to fade into the background, your concentration on the contents of the room. Contrary to what you would expect for a teenager, someone in their prime for self-expression and discovery, the room was almost bare, as if she had been stripped of her identity altogether. As if she was not allowed to be herself. You wondered what had caused the parents to behave this way. 

You were only drawn out of your thoughts when the floorboards beside you sank, and you turned to see Emily leaving the room hurriedly. Your eyes moved to meet Hotch's, and he seemed to display the same worry as you. 

Jasmine was brought back to the precinct to write up an official confession. Once again, no one spoke during the journey. This time the silence hurt your ears. 

Her parents were found soon after, with the missing girl in their basement. 

Apparently, the teen had been convinced to kill anyone she thought was a lesbian, because they were - in the words of her, and then her parents - "sinners who could no longer be saved". 

Hate crimes were never easy to deal with, but this one hurt. 

Emily was quiet on the journey back. Again.

Sat around the precinct, exhausted after the case, the team finished up their paperwork. They would fly back in a few hours, but for now they simply sat there and wrote. 

With a page you required Hotch's signature for in hand, you rose and set off across the bullpen towards where he was stood with a couple other cops. 

You only got a couple of steps in before it happened.

A whistle.

"A little risqué for a pretty little FBI agent, isn't it? Cute skirt though, sweetie! It'd look better on my bedroom floor, don't you think?"

Despite your mind telling you to brush it off, to just keep walking, you couldn't seem to get your feet to cooperate. Instead, you found yourself looking around at the rest of the precinct, who now all had their eyes trained on either you, or the dickhead cop who'd called out.

Glancing over at Hotch, silently begging him to do something, anything, you watched as his eyes darkened and his shoulders tensed. This is not what you expected.

Instead of shouting across the bullpen, as you would have imagined, he took careful and calculated steps until he reached you, setting a hand upon your shoulder. You relaxed a little under his touch. 

Trailing his hand down your arm, he made sure to keep contact with you until he physically couldn't anymore, a comforting gesture. 

It took all your strength to turn and watch as he confronted the man.

"Listen to me."

Oh. His voice was much lower, and much calmer than anyone could have predicted. You would have felt sorry for the young beat cop, if it wasn't for the fact he had blatantly catcalled you in front of an entire precinct of your colleagues. Yeah, he kinda deserved it.

"You really think that's acceptable language? You think you can speak to her like that?"

The man shook his head, and yet Hotch kept on.

"You disgust me. Get out of my sight, before I remove you myself."

Butterflies. 

With no regard to what others thought, he pulled you away into a more private room, ignoring the cop who was now swiftly leaving the building ashamed. 

The door clicked closed behind you both, and he brought your eyes up to meet his. 

"Are you okay, Y/N? Is what I said okay? I'm hoping I didn't cross any boundaries, I recognise that I-"

His words were cut off by your hand, gripping his wrist gently and squeezing in an act of reassurance.

"Yes, Hotch. I'm fine, and I'm grateful for what you did. Seriously, thank you."

You didn't know exactly what else to say. What, just admit to him that his protective side was hot as all hell, and you kind of wanted him to tail you right there? 

No. 

Instead he just smiled, one filled with relief and kindness. God, you wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment. 

It seemed like an eternity that you stayed there, both staring into each other's eyes and enjoying the other's company. It was only when you heard footsteps approaching that you separated, sharing a disappointed look as the door opened, and Rossi's head poked in.

"The jet's leaving in an hour, we should really leave. Morgan and Reid already took your stuff, like the gentlemen they are."

You both chuckled at that, and once Rossi left again, you stood up. 

His hand brushed against yours countless times in the walk to the SUV. Your hand brushed against his countless times in the walk to the jet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading besties :)) i promise we're getting to the smutty part soon, i just needed to get this case out the way as a preface ahskfjf. love you all!! - jesse <3


	4. Chapter 4

The ride back to Virginia had a particularly rocky start. Emily claimed your seat, sprawling out over the soft leather the minute she entered the jet - although you couldn't be mad at her, only growing increasingly concerned.

You ended up sitting at the very end of the plane, alone, situated with Spencer's book on your lap once again. Despite the copy usually bringing you comfort, you found your focus drifting continuously away from the pages, no matter how hard you tried to take in the words.

Surrounded by profilers, you should have known that any attempts to hide your behaviour would be futile.

You sensed his presence before you even looked up. His shiny, polished shoes made the carpet in front of you sink a little, and you hardly had time to look up at him before he spoke.

"Can I sit?"

You simply nodded in response, assuming he was looking down at you to see it. You had assumed correctly, and the couch sank down next to you with his weight. His movements seemed tentative and hesitant, tense thigh pressed up against your own - perhaps a way of testing the waters. When you didn't pull away, he began to speak again.

"I, uhm. I thought we should acknowledge what happened at the start of this case."

Of course, you knew what he was referring to. How could you forget? You thought it would be entertaining to watch him squirm, though. Be a little flustered for once.

Taking your silence as a sign of cluelessness, he spoke once more.

"At the precinct. When you woke up."

The silence between the two of you mirrored that of the rest of the jet, with everyone asleep - with the exception of Derek, who was blasting music in his headphones unreasonably loud. There was tension, but not uncomfortable. Not threatening or angry, just present.

"Listen, I understand if you want to leave the team because of this. It was completely unprofessional and no doubt made you uncomfortable, and although I would never make unwanted advances on you, I can see why you may want to take action with the burea-"

Your lips pressed against his did a successful job in shutting the older agent up, even the briefest contact leaving him in a state of shock. His hands sat in his lap, his eyes staring almost blankly back at you, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he attempted to process what just happened.

Although clearly, it didn't take him more than a few seconds, because before you knew it, his hands had been placed on your thighs, fingers sliding slightly under the hem of your skirt. His lips were on yours again, this time the man taking the initiative, and it never even crossed your mind to check whether the team could see. You'd surely know it if Morgan saw - he would never be able to stop himself from laughing loudly if he caught you. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, asking silent permission, and you eagerly let him in. You snaked a hand up his torso, hooking a few fingers under his tie and loosening it just enough to be able to pull him down onto you. Before you could do so, however, he pushed himself up, breaking the heated kiss and causing a frown to grow on your face.

Being the man of few words as he was, you were given no chance to complain, his calloused hands slipping under your thighs completely and pulling you into his lap, turned around so his chest pressed flat against your back. A gasp escaped your lips, attempting to catch your breath - although it was hard, considering Hotch pressing kisses to your neck, up to just below your ear.

"Is this okay?"

He murmured into your ear, the low tones sending a shiver down your spine. You could only nod, afraid you would let some lewd sound out prematurely if you attempted to speak. Rough fingers pushed your skirt higher, his toned forearms pressing against your legs and keeping them open as he teased your inner thigh. He was moving up excruciatingly slowly, and you weren't one to wait, so you decided to take matters into your own hands - despite the voice in your head telling you this could only result in punishment. Although, the more you thought about it, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. 

Squirming around in a thinly-veiled attempt to make yourself more comfortable, you pressed down on his crotch, hoping to create some sort of friction, anything really to rile him up and cause him to snap. The man clearly wasn't stupid, though, and almost instantly one hand was wrapped around your waist, gripping your hip tightly and halting your movements altogether. 

"Quit being a brat, or I'll never give you what you want. Got that?"

You'd heard your unit chief speak before, pretty much every day, but holy shit did it hit different like this. Him, whispering in your ear, with his hand between your thighs? Yeah. 

You couldn't help but nod again, although you feared this was the wrong move, as he landed a small slap to the inside of your legs. Not hard enough to hurt, by far - years of dealing with unsubs had greatly increased your pain tolerance, and he didn't even hit you that hard anyway - but enough to get the message across.

"Words, little girl. Use them."

Licking your lips slightly, having found your mouth to be strangely dry, you forced a sound out, still a little scared that you would embarrass yourself and reveal how much he'd turned you on already. 

A small "Yes, sir. I understand." sufficed, and he relaxed his grip on your waist as he resumed dancing his fingers further. He halted once, dangerously close to his goal now, and leaned in closer. 

"Good little girl. You'll be quiet, right?"

It seemed he didn't feel like waiting for an answer this time, and before you could voice your response - you'd learnt quickly from last time - his thumb found its way under the waistband of your underwear and brushed over your clit, followed swiftly by the rest of his fingers. He wasted no time, both of you aware of the time restraints placed by the threat of a team member waking up, and dipped a finger into you, flicking his thumb once again. It took everything in you not to moan loudly right then, his sudden movements a shock to your system.

Instead, you threw your head back to rest slightly on his shoulder and lifted a hand to the back of his head, pulling him into a deep kiss and successfully muffling whatever sound you were about to make. The agent obviously took this as a challenge, because a second finger was added almost immediately afterwards, and he thrust them into you as if his aim was to make you as loud as possible.

You, however, were not one to go down without a fight. Ever the competitive person, you simply bit down on your lip and suppressed your moan, staring him in the eyes as you taunted him. He only sped up, this time adding more pressure to your clit, causing you to jerk upwards against his palm and let out a heavy breath. You could hear his low chuckle at this and swore to get him back at some point: although for now, all you could focus on was just how good he was making you feel. 

Your thoughts strayed momentarily to your boyfriend, but it didn't bother you for long. It's not like he hadn't cheated on you before - you'd never walked in on it, but it was obvious, and he hardly tried to hide it these days. The two of you were practically separated anyway, spending so much time apart, and the only thing you really shared was an apartment. His apartment, which was really the only reason you stayed, because without him, you had nowhere to go. That was it.

And obviously, he couldn't please you like this. The familiar heat building up within you only intensified, and soon you found yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, back arched and pressing yourself against his palm desperately. 

"Cum for me, pup. Go on, all over my hand like a good girl..."

His encouragement was all you needed to send you over the edge, your vision flashing white as you jolted and let yourself go. After what felt like forever, suspended in the best orgasm of your life, you felt yourself relax into him, his hand now removed from between your thighs. You took his fingers into your mouth eagerly as he raised them up, muttering praise into your ear all the while. 

A collection of "You're such a good girl for me, you did so well pup, I'm so proud of you"s later, and you were sat completely exhausted in his lap. The rise and fall of his chest was comforting, and you had almost fallen fast asleep when he rubbed a warm hand over your arm, bringing you back awake fully. 

"You did so well. You need to clean up before anyone wakes up and gets suspicious, okay?"

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up off him, turning towards the bathroom when you gave him a look-over. You made a point to linger on his crotch, an obvious bulge alerting you to the fact that he hadn't gotten any release. The avid profiler he was, he clearly noticed, and just sent you a subtle look. Somewhere between "I'm fine, don't worry about it" and "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, and that'll make up for it".

You couldn't spend too much time thinking it over without risking someone waking, and so you hurried off to the bathroom to clean yourself up. It didn't take too long, and as you came back to the rest of the team, you became increasingly glad you left when you did, as a number of them had since woken up. It was a bittersweet moment though, and you felt yourself growing disappointed that you couldn't return to your unit chief's arms, even just for a second more. 

You settled for the seat next to a now-awake Morgan, and claimed your place next to him as he was fiddling with his iPod. He shot you a strange look as you sat down, which you assumed was questioning your choice to sit next to him instead of where you'd been when he first fell asleep. 

After everything with Hotch, you felt drained of all your energy, and rested your head on Derek's shoulder in an attempt to get some sleep before landing. 

Your eyes met with your bosses, just as you were on the verge of letting sleep claim you for the remaining half-hour of the journey. If you hadn't known any better, you'd have thought the emotion you recognised was jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hayyyyy okay so i'm sorry this is kind of short, and i'm also sorry i haven't updated this in fucking ages. i didn't have any motivation but here i am and i hope a full chapter of smut makes up for it? it's gonna get more intense i promise, i guess i just needed to get this out to get back into the swing of things. anyway i hope you liked this and please leave feedback because i have zero idea what i'm doing :) ~ jesse


	5. Chapter 5

You'd arrived home fairly quickly after you landed - usually, you'd stay to complete any paperwork (especially since you got nothing done on the jet) but Hotch sent the entire team home early. He must've recognised how hard-hitting this case had been, because everyone was exhausted, and it didn't take a profiler to see that.

Your shoes were kicked off the minute you entered the apartment, flipping the lights on as you practically stumbled through the doorway and threw your bag haphazardly onto the floor. It bumped into the small table next to your shoes, which caused assorted scraps of paper and mail to scatter over the polished, wooden floor. The bulk of it could wait until you woke up, although you felt the need to clear at least a little of it up to ease the task for future-you.

Sorting through the junk almost blindly - you couldn't seem to will your eyes to stay open for longer than five seconds at a time - your fingers seemed to move too quickly, too recklessly. Before you knew it, you had your finger held to your mouth, and your brow furrowed. A small papercut marking your skin, and although it didn't release much blood, it sure as hell stung like a bitch. It definitely did the trick of waking you up, though, and you managed to keep your eyes open easily, long enough to find the offending paper.

Your gaze landed on a small, lined piece of paper, which had been ripped out of a notepad carelessly. You reached out and grabbed it, deciding that the rest could wait - this seemed important. It wasn't a letter, open or closed, and it looked hurried, which could never be good. Walking over to your kitchen and sitting at the island, you unfolded the note and began reading.

'Y/N,

You brought this upon yourself, you know that. Considering how late it is when you're reading this, you probably haven't even noticed I'm gone. I didn't want to leave you, but you left me no other options. This is your fault, remember that. Text me when you realise you need me. That I'm the only one who loves you. Who's capable of loving you.'

He hadn't signed his name, but you knew it was from James anyway. He always spewed the same meaningless shit, every time a case took too long, and yet you always ended up texting him anyway. Because really, despite everything else, despite being surrounded by the most loving people in the world, you knew he was right. He was the only one capable of truly loving you, and he would stay with you forever. When you thought logically about it, when you really took the time to see the facts like a profiler, you knew he was simply manipulating you, that he was pulling every trick in the book to force you to stay.

But it still scared you. The idea that maybe he wasn't lying, maybe he just knew better. You couldn't take the risk of losing him, because what if he really was the only one? What if you couldn't find anyone after him?

What if you were left to be truly alone?

You didn't have time for a full-blown existential crisis, however, because your phone lit up with a text, Emily's name flashing up on the screen.

'Can I come over? I need to talk, please.'

You immediately shot one back, pushing your own issues to the very back of your mind and choosing to focus on the problem right in front of you. Emily hardly ever texted you, always preferring a video call which she began with a cheeky grin. When she texted, you either had a case, or it was bad. And you just got back from a case.

Before long she was sat on your couch, knee bouncing as she bit her nails and stared a hole into your coffee table.

Another sign it was bad; when she came over, she was always one to make herself right at home, collapsing onto your cushions with the first snack she could find and chattering on about one thing or another. She hadn't said one word since she came in.

Tentatively, you took a seat next to her, bringing a gentle hand around her wrists and away from her mouth. It was this contact that caused her to make eye contact with you for the first time that night, as if you'd pulled her out of her own little world. Burst her bubble.

You couldn't be the first to speak - you knew that if you were, she'd rely on you to lead the entire conversation, and that would never get anywhere. You needed her to break the silence, open the flood gates, and so you waited. Patiently, as she built up the courage to finally talk. You suspected she was going over the sentences in her head - it's certainly what you would do.

Her knee stopped bouncing.

"I think I'm in love with JJ and I don't know what to do."

The words came out rapidly, and you almost didn't catch them, but all you really needed to hear was 'JJ' and 'love'. It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out from there - you were a profiler, after all.

You knew she had more to say, but she'd only close herself off if you interjected, so you just waited again. It wasn't long until she started again, thankfully a little slower this time.

"I just- she's so perfect. And I've felt like this for so long but I never really wanted to believe that it was love, because if it was, then where would that leave me? I don't want to be the gay girl falling for the straight girl. I can't be."

The pain in her eyes was evident, and in the moment she just looked... hopeless. And it was heartbreaking. In truth, you had no idea what to tell her. Of course, you had your suspicions that JJ felt the exact same way, but you were hesitant to say that, just in case you were wrong. You couldn't bear giving your friend that false hope, leading her on like that would just be cruel. In the end, you had to settle for some vague words of comfort, although you wished you could say more.

"Emily, what do you think would happen if you just... told her?"

The woman in front of you hung her head again, focusing her eyes on anything except yours.

"I don't know, Y/N. I want to believe that she would reciprocate, I really do, but it's just unrealistic. I've seen the way she looks at that New Orleans detective."

Sensing she just wanted to move on, that she was getting tired of talking and would rather wallow in her sadness, you eased off a little.

"Well, it's not like you're up against much, let's be real. Anyone with eyes would choose you, Em."

You fought the urge to crack a joke about comphet, and watched as she attempted a smile.

"Ice cream?"

Your offer was clearly appreciated, as she nodded eagerly before lifting her head and finally swinging her legs up to take over the rest of the couch as you stood up. You scooped a combination of chocolate and vanilla into the first bowl you could find, although by the time you returned, Prentiss had fallen asleep and was practically snoring already. Which wasn't an issue at all, because you were more than happy to settle down on the floor next to her, eat her ice cream, and watch TV until you, too, were asleep.

It seemed the universe had different plans, though, because before you could even decide which channel to flip to, your phone lit up with yet another text. This time from 'Big Boss Man'.

(Morgan had changed all your contacts when you first joined, as a sort-of 'hazing', and you hadn't minded this one.)

'Can't sleep.'

You didn't think it was late enough to warrant a 'You up?' text initially, but you shot a quick look at the time and realised it was past 1 am. Not unusual, considering your line of work, but you were certainly surprised that he would contact you this late. Your earlier encounter may have had something to do with it, but he was still your boss, and he never texted unless there was a case. You saw each other often enough, anyway.

'Want to come over? Emily's here, but she's knocked out on my couch anyway. And I could use some company right about now.'

You had planned on at least cleaning a little before he arrived - Emily had seen the good and the bad in this apartment, so it didn't matter to you if it was messy, but your unit chief who you also had a massive crush on was a different story.

Before you had the chance to so much as put the ice cream back in the freezer (you weren't about to waste some perfectly good food) a knock sounded at your door. Your hand immediately went to your side, a reflex, until you realised you left your gun in your bag. Reaching in and bringing it out slowly, you prepared yourself to open the door. You swung it open, pointing your weapon at whoever was there, although the reaction wasn't quite what you expected to hear.

Aaron Hotchner.

More accurately, Aaron Hotchner stood in the doorway to your apartment, laughing. At you.

And not the unit chief laughter you were used to, a small chuckle at a joke or an embarrassing team member at karaoke.

No, this was full-on, doubled over with his hands on his knees, tears in his eyes laughter.

You quickly dropped your arms, setting the gun on the side table, and shot him a mock-disapproving look. Really, you were just happy to see him happy, but it was a little concerning how funny he found it to see you do stupid things. He held up a finger and collected himself, straightening up.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Y/N. I guess it's good that you know how to defend yourself? Although you're not really as threatening when you're holding ice cream."

He had a cheeky smirk on his face, and as much as you wanted to despise him for it and his antics, you couldn't help but find it adorable.

"Obviously I can, I'm an FBI agent. I just wasn't expecting anyone so soon, how did you get here that fast?"

He rubbed the back of his neck almost guiltily, and let out a nervous laugh.

"I may or may not have been outside already. I figured you'd be awake."

Yeah, you couldn't be mad at him.

"Well, you were right, like always."

You left the door open and moved back into your house, letting him follow after you. His shoes were heavy on the floor, and you could clearly hear his footsteps coming in behind you until he slipped them off, shutting the door. You turned to offer him the ice cream, still in your hands, but he gently pushed the bowl back to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Your confusion obviously showed on your face despite your efforts to hide it, and it prompted further explanation from his side.

"You said you could use the company. I don't usually visit you like this, so something's off. Am I right?"

You considered lying, but by the way he was looking at you, it wasn't like he was going to let go of it any time soon. Instead, you just led him over to sit across from you at the kitchen island, setting the ice cream in front of you - even though you'd probably just leave it to melt at this point.

Apparently, all profilers learnt the same things, because Hotch sat and waited for you to begin speaking, on your own terms. 

But what were you supposed to say to him? Oh, my boyfriend just walked out on me, like he's been doing for months, and even though all the signs of emotional abuse are there, I still love him? Right, because that would go down well. Really convince him that you were fine. You settled for a watered-down version, deciding your boss didn't need to know the details. Besides, any sign of weakness and he'd probably force you to take time off, which was most certainly not what you needed.

"James and I had a fight before the case. I came home and he wasn't here. It's not a big deal, Hotch, I'm sorry I made it seem important..."

The longer you talked, with no input from the man across from you, the more you began to fade off, until you were completely silent. The 'strong-and-silent' type sure was sexy until you actually found yourself in these situations.

"Y/N... it is important. Your feelings matter, and I only wish you would realise that."

He hesitated after this, as if he was carefully selecting the words he wanted to say.

"How long?"

Okay, so not the lengthy, meaningful speech you had been preparing for. The question caught you off guard, but it didn't take you long to figure out that you couldn't tell him everything. It truly wasn't that bad anyway, nothing you couldn't handle by yourself. 

"Look, I know what you're thinking, but it's seriously nothing. He's just calming down, he always comes back eventually, so it's nothing to worry about. Okay?"

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked down, playing with the ice cream in your bowl - which now resembled a sludgy, chestnut coloured substance. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, although it felt like centuries, in tense silence. Despite the well-known 'no inter-team profiling' rule, you knew by now that it wasn't something any of you could just turn off, so Hotch was undoubtedly trying to analyse your brain in that time.

After a while, the ice cream had turned into a watery soup, and the silence was almost suffocating, and if no one made a move you feared you'd be stuck like that for the rest of time. 

Moving to place your bowl on the counter, you carefully avoided making eye contact with your unit chief, hoping he would take the hint and leave soon after. Instead, when you attempted to pass and open the door for him, his hand darted out and gently took a hold of your wrist. You forced yourself to look at him once more, and where you expected to see an emotionless face like usual, you saw eyes filled with something you couldn't quite place. Maybe sorrow, maybe hope - for what, you didn't know. You'd take anything, as long as it wasn't pity. 

"Let me stay?"

His voice was softer than you'd ever heard it before, none of the tough, unwavering tones you were exposed to at work, and you nodded faintly in response. He stood, his body pressed tightly against yours for a second before you had the chance to give him space, and waited for you to take the lead. 

You were hesitant to take him to your bedroom, because it all just seemed too far away, and you were exhausted not only from the case, but from everything you'd just gone through emotionally. Not many words had been exchanged, but it took a toll nonetheless. 

Looking back over at the couch, you realised you had no other choice. Emily was still out cold, one arm hanging off the side and a cushion on the floor. Reluctantly, you pretty much dragged yourself down the hallway, Hotch following you diligently. He sat himself down on your bed, perched on the edge as if he was scared to cross any boundaries, and you simply told him to get comfortable - you were too tired to give any further encouragement, not that it was needed.

You pulled your usual sleepwear out of the drawers, resigning to the bathroom before changing into them. You were so sleepy that you didn't even consider the fact that your sleepwear was definitely not intended to be seen by other people, especially not your boss. The outfit was revealing, to say the least, and you didn't even bat an eyelid until you walked out, and felt Hotch's eyes on you. He'd stuck to your word, made himself comfortable under the covers, and you could tell he'd at least taken his shirt off by his bare elbows. 

Pretending not to notice, you slid in next to him and lay on your back, careful not to make any contact with him. You felt silly - you literally let him finger you on the jet earlier, and yet you couldn't cuddle up to him for fear it would make him uncomfortable? 

To your surprise, you felt the mattress dip as he shifted onto his side, tentatively draping an arm over your exposed skin and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. When you didn't pull away, and relaxed into his touch, he lifted his head slightly to press another to your cheek this time, and you felt him smile against you before he rested his head next to yours on the pillow.

"Good night, Y/N. Sleep well, I'll be right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... jemily? i thought this could be boring without some gays so this is happening now, also maybe moreid but idk yet. anyway they obviously won't be the focus of the fic, so don't worry about that!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this, and as always, kudos and comments are deeply appreciated! i could really use some feedback (and maybe ideas you have?), since i don't exactly know what i'm doing. at all. 
> 
> again, thanks for supporting this!


End file.
